


Drabble Request Collection

by SadinaSaphrite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Dismemberment, Drabble Collection, M/M, Mild Language, Tags to be Updated as more Drabbles Arrive, Whump, banter and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-02-07 11:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadinaSaphrite/pseuds/SadinaSaphrite
Summary: A collection of short drabbles in response to requests from tumblr. Requests are always welcome!





	1. Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Anon: "Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute." with McCree. Follow me on [tumblr!](https://dabbledrabbleprose.tumblr.com/)

“Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute.”

The Shimada brothers froze, looked at each other, then back to McCree. 

“What did you just say?” Genji asked.

McCree hesitated under the dual stares the Shimadas were giving him. “Uh…I said…just hold on a minute.”

They were in the communal recreation room of Watchpoint: Gibraltar after Genji had declared a movie night and dragged his brother and McCree along. Hana was currently playing a game on the big holoscreen, but would only be on for another fifteen minutes before retreating to her own quarters for a stream. That left the trio time to go digging through the digital movie files in the system and try to decide on something to watch. They had reached the “classic films” section when Genji had made a disparaging remark regarding the attractiveness of one Clint Eastwood, and McCree had taken offense. Though perhaps taken offense in a manner that he was about to regret.

“No,” Genji said slowly. “That is not what you said. I’m pretty damn sure that’s not what you said at all.”

“Was so,” McCree huffed, knowing he’d already lost this argument before it started, but not wanting to give Genji the satisfaction.

“Diddly darn…” Hanzo said slowly, lingering over each syllable, the words foreign on his tongue, and making them sound, if possible, even more ridiculous. He gave McCree a stern look. “An appalling alliteration, Jesse.”

“Now there, I know English is your second language-” Jesse started before Hanzo interrupted.

“Third language. We learned Russian before English.”

“Third language,” McCree amended. “But I think you mispronounced ‘appealing alliteration,’ my adorable Apple Pie.”

“I regret ever hearing that sentence come out of your mouth.” Hanzo snorted derisively, ready to let the subject drop.

Genji continued scrolling through the movies, but wasn’t about to let the matter go. “Diddly Darn is pretty tame for a guy with ‘bad-ass motherfucker’ on display over his junk.”

McCree sputtered, looked around the room for an out, then gestured emphatically at Hana. “There is a child in the room, Genji! I was watching my language!”

“I’m nineteen,” Hana said from the couch. She flipped the trio off without taking her eyes off the screen. “I’m also a gamer and a soldier. Don’t try to protect me, old man.”

McCree put on his best offended face and a hand over his heart. “Old? I ain’t even forty yet!”

“And I’m not a child, so watch your damn mouth,” She huffed and returned her focus to her game.

“Yes, McCree,” Genji’s eyes gleamed with laughter from over his faceplate. “Watch your diddly darn language.”

“How about I diddly don’t, Genji?”

“How diddly dare you!”

“The next person who says that phrase,” Hanzo said icily. “Is going to get diddly decked.”

“Aww…” Jesse slid an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Don’t say that, diddly darlin’.”

_THUD_

“Ouch!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon ask: „Please, kid, stay with me, come on Jesse, don’t you dare-“ But the blood keeps running and the boy keeps getting paler.

“Boss, look out!”

There was no time to react. Before Gabe could bring his shotguns up to bear, before he even finished turning around, McCree had lunged for the Los Muertos punk that snuck up behind them, grabbing the punk’s sawed-off shotgun with his bare hand. Gabe saw McCree’s hand close over the end of the double barrels.

“Jesse, no!”

The punk fired. Gabe watched as McCree’s arm was all but obliterated by the blast in less than a second. One moment McCree’s arm was there, the next it was just…gone. Blood, bone, and tissue splattered across them both in a cloud of red, and Jesse dropped like a stone to the ground. The scream he made would haunt Gabriel’s nightmares for years.

A single shot to the head ended the Los Muertos punk, and Gabe fell to his knees beside McCree. He was still screaming, writhing on the ground and thrashing the stump of his arm, ending just above the elbow. Splintered bone protruded from the bloody pulp that made up the end of his arm, and a flash of bright arterial blood escaped with every beat of his racing heart. There were fingers scattered all around them.

“Fio!” Gabe shouted into his communicator as he yanked the medkit off his belt. “Requesting immediate extraction, McCree is critically wounded!”

“Confirmed Commander,” the pilot replied sharply, and it spoke of the severity of the situation when she had no quips, no sass to give him. “Extraction inbound to your location.” 

Gabe pinned down McCree’s flailing arm, ignoring how the kid’s renewed scream ripped his heart out, and reached for the tourniquet in the medkit.

Except the tourniquet wasn’t there.

“Shit. Shitshitfuckgoddammit _shit._ ” Gabe dumped out the medkit to be sure, but to no avail. Whoever had been in charge of restocking the medkits was going to be fucking _murdered_ when he got back. He yanked the red bandana off Jesse’s neck and wrapped it around the stump, using his own pocketknife as a windlass, tightening down the makeshift tourniquet and securing it with a roll of gauze out of the dumped medkit. The bleeding slowed and Gabe allowed himself a sigh of relief.

“B-Boss…”

At some point, McCree had stopped screaming and now laid trembling on the ground, face pale and breathing hard.

“Take it easy, Jesse. Help’s coming.”

“B-Boss…M-my arm…”

“I know, kid.”

“I c-can’t feel m’arm…”

“That’s probably for the best, kid.” Gabe gently positioned himself behind McCree, carefully elevating his stump. “What the fuck were you thinking, Jesse? What the damn hell is wrong with you?”

“He…he was gonna shoot you.”

“So you should’ve shot him first, dumbass! Not punch his fucking shotgun!”

“I was outta rounds,” McCree protested, voice croaking. “Didn’t have time to r-reload and he w-was right b-behind you and…and…”

He broke into a coughing fit, ending with a pitiful moan.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Jesse. Breathe. Breathe for me.”

Jesse took a few slow, shaky breaths.

“Good. Good job. Just breathe. We’ll get you help, soon. You’re gonna be okay.”

The words had just finished leaving his lips when the gauze snapped, releasing the windlass and the makeshift tourniquet fell loose. A spurt of blood splashed against Gabe’s leg and he let out a stream of curses as he tried to get the tourniquet under control again.

“G…Gabe?” McCree’s voice was soft and weak.

“You’re gonna be fine, Jesse,” Gabe growled, as if speaking the words would make them true. “You’re gonna be _fine._ ”

“Gabe…I don’t…I don’t feel so good…”

Gabe’s eyes flicked away from his work to Jesse’s face and his heart skipped a beat. His normally warm, bronze skin had become ashen, his eyes unfocused, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.

“No, no, no. Not yet. Stay with me, Jesse. Keep talking.” Gabe kept fighting with the bandana, his fingers slick with McCree’s blood.

“S…hard. Hurts. …Fuzzy. …‘m sorry, Boss…”

“Knock that shit off! Please, kid. Stay with me,” Desperation leaked into Gabe’s voice, sharp and tight. “Come on, Jesse. Don’t you dare…” 

He secured the tourniquet again, but the damage had been done. Jesse’s face was pale, so very pale, and his blood had soaked through Gabe’s pants, warm and sticky against his skin. Jesse’s voice dropped to the barest of whispers as he clung to the edges of consciousness.

“…’m scared…”

“It’s okay, Jesse,” Gabe said, and he was starting to doubt the words himself. Even if it was a lie, he’d be damned if he let his kid go out in fear. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

McCree let out a soft sigh and fell unconscious, going limp in his arms. Gabe looked up at the sky, looking for any sign of Fio’s transport as tears stung at his eyes.

_Please…please be fine._


End file.
